


Book One: Harry Potter and the Odd Professor

by SocksinSpace



Series: The Many Faces of Regulus Black and How it Positively Impacts Harry Potter's Future [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, Black Hermione, Canon pairings will be, Dumbledore is morally ambiguous and oblivious but not evil, Good Dudley Dursley, Indian Harry, Later in the series, Magical Dudley Dursley, No Ron bashing he is my boy and you won't even be able to pry that from my cold rotting dead hands, POC Hermione, PoC Harry, Regulus Black Lives, not sure if I want Hinny endgame, of course, or Ronarry endgame, snarky shit Regulus, wanted to write about it
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-05
Updated: 2019-07-07
Packaged: 2020-04-08 03:25:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19098799
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SocksinSpace/pseuds/SocksinSpace
Summary: When choices are made and a man survives, how different does it make the future, when said man was supposed to die?Quite a lot, and yet not so much as you would think.





	1. R.A.B Or a Letter Off From 'RAD'

**Author's Note:**

> 01000111 01101111 01100100 00100000 01100011 01110101 01110010 01110011 01100101 01100100 00100000 01101101 01100101 00100000 01100110 01101111 01110010 00100000 01101101 01111001 00100000 01101000 01110101 01100010 01110010 01101001 01110011 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01101101 01111001 00100000 01110111 01101111 01110010 01101011 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01101110 01100101 01110110 01100101 01110010 00100000 01100110 01101001 01101110 01101001 01110011 01101000 01100101 01100100
> 
> (Also I decided not to write a whole scene of regulus getting the horcrux and escaping bc it gave me anxiety..,)

Regulus would have sworn he was dying, were it not for the excruciating burning feeling in his chest and dryness of his lips. Easily the man lost all sense of where he was, as he did not recognize the feeling beneath him for wood floorboards in place of the stone and crystal he had almost died upon.

The inferi- _Merlin_ the bloody, bastardous inferi. Monstrous, grotesque, and murderous. He feared for his life when they attempted to drag him down into the murky depths- But thank his lucky stars Kreacher was there still to save him, to take him home-

Home, he needed to get home!

Regulus clawed at the ground, eyes shut tight to the horrors he wanted to avoid, the _things_ lurking in the inky darkness of the crystal cave. He heard Kreacher, begged him to take him home, to get him some damned water! He gasped and shuddered, in pain from the potion the locket was kept safe within- that bloody locket. "Kreacher- damnit! Take us home, as I had told you to-" He cried hoarsely.

"Master Regulus, we ares home," The elf intoned, voice shaking faintly with fear. "Kreacher brings Master water, shh shh." he pets his master's hair gently, snapping his fingers with a free, wrinkled hand. Water appeared in a glass cup mid-air and carefully the hobbled house elf held his shaking, shivering master's head as he poured water between his lips. Slowly, Regulus breathed in, breath haggard and weak. And as he calmed, though still no less delirious, he whispered..

"Dumbledore.." His voice cracked painfully. Regulus let in a ragged breath of air. "Take me... to Dumbledore"

~~12 years later~~

Harry Potter stood over the stove cooking Sunday morning breakfast: One egg and a side of greens for Aunt Petunia; Three eggs, a slice of toast and jam, and fried ham for Uncle Vernon; And Seven eggs, three slices of toast and jam, two pieces of fried ham, and a glass of juice for Dudley, not because Dudley wanted all that food in the mornings, however, but because Uncle Vernon said his 'growing boy' needed fuel for the day.

And nothing but bread and water for Harry.

He slaved away for an hour that morning, masterfully keeping the finished plates warm as he cooked up the rest- He'd had plenty of practice over the years, after all, it was no issue on his part. And despite the cruel attitude of his relatives, young Harry Potter had learned to think positively of the small things. It was the only thing that kept him sane in these terrible situations, such as being woken at precisely six o' clock in the morning to make breakfast and prepare a cake, and to water, the garden and weed the weeds and trim the bushes and hoover the house and- you get the point.

However, he kept reminding himself that Aunt Petunia promised him a fifteen-minute break after breakfast to wash and dress cleanly, as they were going to the zoo for Dudley's birthday! It was exciting, Harry thought, and very fun. Of course, he knew he'd only be tagging along because Granny Arabella was sick this week and couldn't watch him, but the fact that he got to go at all, for any reason, was an enjoyable thought indeed. And speaking of Petunia, Harry turned to his Aunt, who was primly reading her favorite gardening magazine and drinking a cup of tea (that Harry himself had made, she'd even complimented his skill)

"Aunt Petunia?" He asked softly, eyes down and watching her small pointed feet.

"Yes, boy?" Petunia returned, not looking up at all and voice high and pitchy as always.

"I'm done with breakfast, shall I wake Uncle Vernon and Dudley, or do you want me to keep the food warm til they wake on their own?"

A moment of silence fell as his Aunt thought, lips pursed. She made a small humming sound, then gave an answer. "Go ahead and wake them up, then head to the bathroom and make yourself look as nice as you can." Harry smiled and went to step off his stool- he was quite short for his age. "And put the stool back under the sink, oh and please at least _try_ to tame that bird's nest you call your hair, boy! I don't want to seem as though we're raising a ruffian, or you to be mistaken as another ape lost from the pen."

"Yes, Aunt Petunia," The child said distractedly, doing as he was told before running off and up the stairs. 

Harry first came to his Aunt and Uncle's room, gently knocking on the door. "Uncle Vernon" He called, hearing a grunt in response. Harry sighed. "I made breakfast, just like you ordered it last night!"

 _'That got the big lug moving'_ Harry thought, listening to his uncle move about the room, likely attempting to get dressed before heading down.

"Go wake Dudley!" The man called, sounding tired and put upon at the same time. "I've already gotten his presents set up in the living room- you best not have touched a single one of them, you freaky little nuisance!"

Another sigh escaped the child as he turned away and down the hall to Dudley's first bedroom, completely ignoring his Uncle's continued yammering behind him. Harry knocked once, then twice, then four times. "Dudley it's me, are you awake?" Harry asked in a whisper, smiling once the door was opened.

Dudley wasn't always kind to him, you see, as even when they were babies the larger boy was a bit cruel, but when the two of them were six years old, and Dudley had witnessed his parents beat Harry for cooking Christmas Ham 'wrong', the boy realized that something wasn't quite right. A week later, Harry found himself being slipped some dinner before going to his cupboard for the night, Dudley having decided to be there for his cousin, though he didn't quite understand him. The two were secret friends from then on, Dudley learning from Harry who knew more than he did, and Harry having a shoulder to cry on when his own was too bruised. It was nice, and a kind reprieve from the harshness young Harry suffered otherwise.

"It's time for breakfast," Harry said with a smile, though Dudley didn't look as happy. "What's wrong?"

"I just don't like that they do this, treat me all nice and special while talkin' badly about you. And it gets worse when you're watching." The larger boy bit his lip and sighed, pouting unhappily. "I jus' feel bad, 's all."

Harry placed a small hand on Dudley's shoulder. "It's alright, big D, you know I don't mind none, with you around." He smiled, a genuine one just for his cousin. "Come downstairs and eat, I gotta go clean up."

"The Kitchen? You never leave a mess, though."

"No, no not the Kitchen," Harry laughed into his hand, leading Dudley to the stairs- He could hear his Uncle yapping to Aunt Petunia about something or other. "I'm going with you today." Dudley beamed.

"To the Zoo?" He asked hopefully.

"Of course, silly."

Harry smiled as Dudley raced down the staircase, happier than a moment ago, and he turned to the hall again.

Meanwhile, downstairs, a peculiar owl sat on a light pole, just outside, two letters sat in its beak.


	2. Shock of Cold Water

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> With plans thwarted, a certain st-st-stuttering professor must retreat back and make new plans. Meanwhile, the Madame who was hired talks with the Headmaster.
> 
> And two children find out their heritage.
> 
> In such a case, for two adults who treated their nephew horribly, it really is a shock of cold water.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translation for the binary in the last chapter: God has cursed me for my hubris and my work is never finished
> 
> 01000111 01101111 01101111 01100100 00100000 01000100 01110101 01100100 01101100 01100101 01111001 00100000 01000100 01110101 01110010 01110011 01101100 01100101 01111001 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01100001 00100000 01110110 01100101 01110010 01111001 00100000 01100111 01101111 01101111 01100100 00100000 01100010 01101111 01111001
> 
> (also if anyone wants to, for some reason, have words with me about how I write a stutterer- as far as I'm aware he stutters this way in the movie adaption, and I stutter this way too. This isn't me being unnecessarily defensive btw, I actually get people thinking I fake my mild speech impairment, which is brought on by stress anxiety and other high emotions because I quote 'sound like a bad imitation of a real stutter' like wtf? My dude, my mans,,, what in the actual got dam.)

There was a desperate tinge to the turban-wearing man's voice as he pleaded with the headmaster, hands gripping tight to the armrests and eyes wide as saucers. "B-B-Bu-But s-ss-si-sir!" He cried. "I thought I was the-" A hiss, as he doubled over. Dumbledore watched unfazed. "I-I-I Tho-thought I wa-a-wa-was the mo-m-most qu-qu-qualified!" 

Dumbledore sighed.

"Tom," The elder wizard said to Quirrell and said man froze deathly still. "I know it's you, I was warned." Along, deathly silence filled the room. Dumbledore had met the prospective professor in Hogsmeade- just outside Hogwarts' wards- to tell him the news. Voldemort would not want anyone to know he was alive, not yet, and thus knew the man would avoid attacking in a public space for now. At least, not this early in the game.

Quirrell's fist clenched slowly, and a smile that was not the stuttering man's own crept across his face, distorted somehow... Uncanny, and twisted into a vile shape that bared sharp teeth and dull red eyes. Veins popped and pressed against skin as the man's face became a conglomerate of two, the difference between Quirinus and Voldemort clear but disgusting to gaze upon. "Who." The voices overlapped, Voldemort's predominate and echoing in the pub. Not a soul was there, as he'd managed to get some... alone time in the space for this meeting. But, both men could hear the bustle of people outside, traipsing about the village.

 _"Who."_ The dark wizard said again, not a question, but a demand.

"Why must you imitate an owl, dear Tom? This is serious business, after all." The man in question bashed his hands against the table, a trickle of blood left behind.

His nails were digging into the skin, drawing blood in the process.

 **"I Said who warned you, old man!"** Came Voldemort's distorted yell. "Who told you, who _knew?_ I was so very careful to keep hidden..."

"Not well enough, it would seem, Tom." The elder wizard smirked at the growl he received every time the name was repeated. "I won't tell you again: You've been removed from your upcoming duties, and a more qualified professor has been appointed their new role. Leave, and don't return."

The monster who was once a man stood, the body he possessed twisting in odd ways as he left through the back of the pub, and disappeared begrudgingly, with a question on his mind and revenge in his agenda.

~~Back at Hogwarts, approximately one hour, fifteen minutes, and three seconds later.~~

"Ah, Eugina Crestin, how wonderful to see you! My you look ravishing today." The Headmaster cheered cheekily when a young-looking woman entered his office, white hair done up in a bun. She scowled.

"Up yours, Bumblebore." She said, seating herself in such a way that had Dumbledore chuckling- practically upside down, Crestin had one leg on the armrest, another under her, and she was leaning forward. The young woman looked like a pretzel gone wrong. "Tell me you didn't just bloody alert the goddamn Dark Lord to my presence, you smarmy git."

Ah.

The Headmaster sighed, staring into Crestin's brown eyes. "Now now, Regulus, you know I love a good dramatic reveal," He grinned manically, floral pink-and-green sunhat flopping into his eyes. Crestin- or Regulus, really- Frowned so hard his face might just freeze. "He doesn't know it was you, Regulus- Come now, It's been twelve years! Do you really think he'd think it was you? No No, my boy- None of his followers know he is alive, and you are presumed dead yourself. He's not as smart as you think, not in the poor state he's in."

w

Regulus scoffed derisively. "Pah! 'poor state', you're bonkers to think even as weak as he is, he doesn't have some sort of power that could kick our bloody arses." The man-disguised-as-a-woman sneered. "He's the Dark Lord, for fucks sake. Even if he doesn't know we've been tracking him in Albania, he'll start going even more mad trying to find an answer. And that'll be on your head what he does next."

"With luck, he'll leave us alone until young Harry is old enough to fight him properly."

Regulus snorted.

~~Surrey, Number 4 Privet Drive~~

Harry tried to plead with Uncle Vernon, who was soaked head to toe and red as an overripe tomato. "I didn't do it, I swear! It was there, and then it wasn't! I-It was like _Magic!_ " He regretted speaking immediately because that was the one word, the **one** word you never uttered in this family. Even Dudley would find himself in trouble if he so much as alluded to magic of any kind. It was odd, really, why they hated the word so much, the very concept. It wasn't as though it did any harm, really, right?

Vernon snarled, face contorting in rage. "Magic isn't real, you pesky little problem child!" He screeched, throwing Harry into the cupboard and slamming the door shut. The larger man peered through the grate on the door and grinned nastily. Harry shivered in fear.

"You're going to wish you were never born by the time the month is out, you vermin. Twice the chores, with half the time to do them!" And the grate shut closed, Dudley watching from the bottom of the stairs, a worried look on his face.

Harry sat on his cot, sniffling into his knees, arms wrapped around his legs and holding them to his chest. It felt like hours passed in seconds, and days in hours. He couldn't tell what time it was right now if you slapped him over the head with it. So bloody much for a fun day with his cousin, It wasn't his fault Vernon was leaning against the glass of the snake habitat and somehow managed to fall through! He didn't plan for any of this, not even a little bit! He... He just wanted to spend time with Dudley, and Uncle Vernon had made him so mad, chastising him for 'contaminating' his darling boy with his 'good-for-nothing delinquent filth'. He just... He _just_.

Oh, to hell with it all, he thought.

And then the door opened!

It was dark, so it had to be nighttime already. Harry squinted his eyes to see in the dark room outside his cupboard, groaning a bit when his stomach made itself known and growled fiercely.

"Well?" a familiar voice whispered. "Are you going to come out, Harry? You haven't eaten hardly a thing all day."

"Dudley?" Harry asked quietly, though he knew the answer.

Instead of verbal response, Dudley gently grabbed Harry by the arm and hoisted him up and standing- He was lucky that his mum and dad wouldn't care if they heard rummaging downstairs. He'd flat out told them one day when they tried to blame Harry for food going missing from the Pantry and Fridge that he was the culprit, and suddenly- though not to anyone's surprise- they did nothing but coo and tell him to have whatever he pleased, he was a growing boy.

Bunch of bollocks it was, starving his cousin that way.

He lead Harry to the kitchen quietly and sat him at the table before turning to the fridge and pulling out a few slices of ham. "Sandwich?" he asked, grabbing bread from the breadbox too.

"Sure" Harry responded softly, a smile on his face. Dudley always took care of him when his parents weren't looking, hoping to keep things from getting too bad. The worse Harry did, the meaner his Aunt and Uncle got. And the worse condition he was in physically and mentally, the worse he did at his chores. "Can I get a bit of green on mine?" He asked

"'Course, little harry." The larger boy said with a smile, finishing up the sandwiches diligently, and both boys keeping an ear out for the adults. As Dudley handed Harry his sandwich, though, a thud was resounded on the window leading to the outside.

"Blimey!" Dudley harshly whispered, turning to Harry with alarm. "Take your sandwich to the cupboard- Hide it if you hear them, no doubt they heard that."

Harry dashed as quietly as he could manage to the cupboard, Dudley on his tail to lock it so his dad didn't suspect- and managed to get back to the kitchen without being caught just as his parents made their wat down the stairs. What they found was shocking, to say the least.

Petunia nearly screamed at the large bird sitting in their sink, window smashed open and glass everywhere. The creature was obscenely huge! "I-is that... an _owl?_ " She spoke fearfully, in a hushed tone. Vernon, on the other hand, was not so terrified and attempted- futiley- to scare it off. The Owl simply hooted around two odd letters in its mouth, dropped them, and took off out the broken window with not so much as a by-your-leave.

When Petunia saw the letters and recognized them, she really did scream.

~~Exactly Thirty Minutes Later~~

The odd hour at which the letters were properly delivered was but a backdrop on the situation at large, as Harry sat next to Dudley on the floor, Vernon and Petunia perched on the couch, staring, at the letters in their hands, speechless.

It wasn't to either of their surprise that Harry had gotten a letter, the scruffy little thing was a freak after all. But...

 _Their son?_

Neither of them could believe it, and yet both of them knew it had to be true. A wizarding letter involving a freakish school wasn't something that could be easily faked, and certainly not by the boy who they'd made sure had no clue of his heritage. There was a long moment of continued silence as they stared more intently at their son's name- their Dudders, who was meant to start school elsewhere this coming year, was a fre-

It hit Petunia like a freight train.

She'd given birth to a magical child and never realized.

How could she have not realized? Not known? Not seen?

And she couldn't even bring herself to call him a f-

No, no she couldn't do it. It was her _son_ , her baby boy, she-

She didn't know what to do or say.

Vernon's face was becoming worryingly red.


	3. Denial is an any Man's Game

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A very bad night for Harry, but the next day comes with hope.
> 
> Dudley may need a shoulder to cry on.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Petunia and Vernon won't be redeemed, despite how it looks. They're both child abusers and terrible people regardless of what's going on, so the most they get is 'seeing the error of their ways' but I have no intention of having them be forgiven by Harry OR Dudley. Child abuse of any kind is not erased the moment you realize you were wrong, because there is no excuse, to begin with.

Vernon stood, handing the letters to Petunia with unnatural delicateness, face red and... calm. Too calm. The large man walked towards Harry, acting as though he was just going past him-

Then grabbed his arm hard and _yanked_.

The resounding snap of feeble bone and the pained cry that followed had even Mrs. Dursley feeling distraught.

"Vernon!" Petunia cried, still in a tizzy and gripping tightly to the letters she rose from the couch in a rush, worried for young Harry. No, she still was not fond of her sister's son, but that _sound_. They'd beaten him before, surely enough, but never was a bone broken or fractured- never too much for the boy to not be able to work. Vernon's anger was... It was terrifying. "Vernon, please, be careful with the child!"

The large man snarled and dragged Harry across the floor to the kitchen, Petunia, and Dudley following behind. Where Petunia was more afraid of their reputation more than Harry himself, Dudley was holding back his desire to yell and scream at his da'. He knew it would only make things so much worse for Harry if he did, however- and what was in those letters to make him so very angry? So... So ready to just snap a boy's bone? A boy the same age as his own son?

Dudley was afraid.

"He's a freak!" Mr. Dursley screeched in pure derision and disgust. "It's his fault! It has to be, no other way!" Harry cried out again as Vernon threw him across the floor and into the glass. "Clean this mess **UP** boy!"

He heaved, and huffed, and grunted where he stood, watching the poor eleven-year-old cry and struggle to stand. He was so scared- He'd never been hurt this badly by Uncle Vernon before! Tears leaked from his reddened eyes, and he refused to look up from the floor as he failed, again and again, to right himself off the floor. "M' sorry, Unc' Vernon," He sobbed, not knowing what he had done wrong. "M' so- sorry."

Petunia stood, staring at how desperately fearful her nephew was, and began to feel... bad. Not regretful, not- not quite. But _bad_. She stepped forward and helped Harry to his feet, holding his arm gently against his chest and supporting his body with the other. Mrs. Dursley looked to her husband who seemed also suddenly withdrawn and a tad pensive. The skinny woman sighed and gathered the too-skinny boy into her arms.

"We'll say it was an accident," She said tiredly. "He was getting up to eat, which we will claim we allowed, in order to gain weight that he's never quite been able to keep up, despite our best efforts."

Vernon looked shocked at his wife. "Turtle dove we can't! They see the state the boy is in and we'll be locked up for sure!"

 _"Then what else is there to do!?"_ she whisper-yelled, voice hoarse and angry. "You broke the boy's arm! Do you know how to set one? because I certainly do not!"

She sighed, beginning to head for the door when suddenly-

"I know." A quiet voice answered.

"What?" Petunia asked, looking towards her son in confusion. He smiled weakly.

"I know how to set a broken bone- Harry taught me when he saw how upset I was after one of my friends broke their own arm. He said even if I couldn't do it yet myself, the knowledge would help keep me calm if it ever happened again."

Petunia stared at her son, then down at Harry. "You've been-" Harry interrupted her meekly.

"Tutoring him, s' why his grades 've gone up the past years. I know lots, from reading in the library at school, and in town when you don't want to take me into the stores with you." Through saying it all, Harry kept his eyes down, the edges crinkled from the pain he felt. It was almost too much and he wanted desperately to cry and yell from it, but he refrained. He'd done enough yelling, they all had. 

Mrs. Dursley hesitated until her dear son tugged on her nightgown and led her to the living room once again. "Set him on the couch." He said softly, "Dad, c' mere and take hold of his arm- It's gonna hurt so be careful." Vernon sputtered but obeyed, grumbling the whole time as he sat on the floor and none-too-gently took Harry's arm into his large hands. "I said careful!" Dudley accused, eyes narrowed in irritation. "Don't be rough, Da', you're the one who hurt him this bad in the first place."

His father scoffed but didn't manhandle Harry any more after being scolded. "Now what?" He asked sourly.

"Now you find the bone edges with your fingers, and snap them back into place as cleanly as you can," Dudley instructed, turning to his mum. "Get the first aid kit, please, the big one that we never use." He heard his cousin cry out suddenly and he went to his side, shoving his dad away and taking hold of his cousin's arm. "You're going to be okay, 'arry, don't worry."

Harry sighed, smiling weakly at his cousin. "Thanks, Big D."

And then things went black.

~~The Next Morning, exactly 8 o' clock~~

Albus Dumbledore was not expecting to find himself with a disguised Regulus Black, standing before Number 4 Privet Drive as they were in that moment, on this fine day. He'd pondered upon receiving the shakily written letter, delivered by an owl that was certainly not the one who had been sent to the residence- it was wild, and quite mean, it had pecked a hole in his poor finger- What could it mean? It had simply said; "your damn owl broke my window, get here now you old, withered coot."

"How delightful, Madame Crestin, to have you meet your future student on this fine day." He said cheerfully, hands clasped together and expression one of pure delight. He himself had not seen Harry since the boy was but a babe, it would be lovely to meet him again after all this time!

Regulus sighed a look of contempt upon his face. "Yes yes, of course," He spoke mock-cheerfully, "It's not like you made me miss my morning coffee to drag me halfway 'cross the world in the most nauseating way possible."

It's not that he wasn't pleased to see the little sprout, no, quite the opposite- Regulus was over the moon to be meeting his technically-god-nephew- it was just that Dumbledore had a knack for waking him up too early.

"Re-Eugina, it's eight in the morning."

"It's seven am somewhere."

"That's... not much better."

"Whatever, just knock on the door, you old coot! It'll be nighttime at this rate, we've been here for thirty minutes without you moving a muscle. People are _staring_." Lo an behold, behind them the locals were standing in the streets and within their homes staring in confusion at the elder wizard and the white-haired woman accompanying him.

Dumbledore sighed, acting so very put-upon. The git. "Very well, I shall do as my dear friend commands of me."

It takes three knocks before Petunia answers the door, still in her nighties and hair astray. "Come in before you embarrass me, you bastard."

The elder wizard and Regulus entered the home quickly, Mrs. Dursley slamming the door behind them and saying, with a no arguments tone of voice.

"My son and my nephew are both wizards and you will remove them from my home this instant."

Dumbledore nearly fainted. "Excuse me, Petunia?"

Petunia pointed towards two suitcases that were filled- mostly with Dudley's things as Harry did not have much- and scowled, though there were obvious tears in her eyes as well. _"Take those boys, that FREAK, and get them out of my sight. Cast a spell- mix a concoction- whatever it takes to get them out and make sure none of my neighbors ever knew they were here to begin with"_

Dumbledore took in the skinny woman's appearance and state of panic, assessing the situation as best he could. "did you say... _both_ your children are wizards?" Petunia slammed her hand against the wall.

"That BOY is not my child, Dudley is- but yes, they're both _your kind_. And I want them out, NOW."

Regulus wandered the home, ignoring the woman and her ramblings as he explored. In the kitchen was broken glass, filling the sink and floor. The window was open and shattered, letting in a faint breeze. He left the kitchen and headed for the living room, and-

And there was a chubby boy sitting with a scrawny, small looking boy's head in his lap. The smaller child had a broken arm and was clearly sleeping, but the chubby child was awake, with red-rimmed eyes and a tired, sad expression. Something was very off about this situation. Regulus took a swig of his flask and returned to Dumbledore's side, where he and the woman were arguing.

"The blood wards, Petunia! They're important for Harry's safety!"

"Screw your bollocks wards, Dumbledore! I want nothing of him, of them! Just take the children and go! Take them back to your school, away from here, away from me and my husband and our normal life!"

"I cannot do that, it could cause many dangers for young Harry!"

"He's in danger _here_ Albus!"

Silence fell upon them, with only the faint sound of sobbing coming from the room Regulus was just in. Petunia's face fell as she heard it.

Dumbledore looked upon her in suspicion. _"what_ danger, Petunia Dursley?" He asked, voice low and, if you listened closely, a tad fearful of what he may yet hear.

Petunia was quiet for a long, long moment, and Albus's patience was obviously wearing thin. Before he could ask again, however, Petunia spoke, voice cracking.

"Vernon broke his arm last night, and we have been beating him and working him half to death since he was old enough to walk."

"Regulus, grab Harry and Young Dudley's bags."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all like how this ends, Just keep in mind I wrote this at 3 am,


	4. Sherbet Lemon, Pajama man?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Petunia's last appearance shows she can't be bothered, in spite of regret.
> 
> Harry is perturbed, and much braver knowing his Aunt and Uncle can't get to him anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uhjgsaij I know I kind of... derailed the story into all new territory. But I'm the type of person to write as I go. I know what I want to end with (except for sHIPS APPARENTLY), and what I want to start with, but the in-between of everything I write is all on an improv basis. You never know what exactly I'm going to write next. Or you might, who knows I might be a little predictable after all. I will point out, however, that the way I've written Petunia is actually based off my own mother, with whom I am estranged. She's the kind of person who has regrets, but never changes her actions because she believes it's too late, so why bother.

_"And why, pray tell, would you give up your son as well Mrs. Dursley? From what you've said thus far it seems you favor him over young Harry."_

Petunia mulled it over in her mind, sipping the cup of morning tea, staring out the broken window. Her husband trotted about, preparing for work and kissing his lovely wife upon the cheek, a gentle smile on his face. A smile Petunia hadn't seen since the day before her nephew was left upon their doorstep. It was as if he was a new man. And, she supposed, he was.

_"Why would you ask such a question? He has magic! He needs to go, to- to be with your kind, he doesn't belong here."_

Vernon's eyes were blank, Dumbledore said that they would be for the next few days, as his mind, and the minds of all those who had ever seen or known her son and nephew processed the missing memories and built new ones to accommodate the change.

Eleven years doesn't go away without a bit of work on the part of a memory charm, after all.

Petunia sighed, and sat down her cup. She stood, shaking, though her dull-eyed husband didn't have the capacity to notice such a small detail at the moment. "Come, dear, have a cup of tea before heading to work."

The large man smiled and sat at the table, praising his wife for being so attentive, so lovely, so gracious. Every word made her ill.

None of it was true, and she expected no happy ending, no day where her son would come home, where Harry would come back, and forgive her, forgive them.

That, she supposed, is why she asked to keep her memories, where she made clear her husband would not.

_"That cannot be the only reason, Petunia. You are an adult, I would have thought you'd think and act like one as well. Was I wrong?"_

He wouldn't be able to keep his mouth shut- he'd spent so many years, even before Dudley's birth, boasting and acting an arrogant fool. He was always a bit of a bigot, a man who she was like in many ways.

Maybe she did feel a bit guilty, but still... Only for the tears her son shed.

_"My husband loves our boy! He does! But, Dumbledore- He is so intensely disgusted by magic, even more than me, that the moment our son were to actually show, without a doubt that he had magic of any kind.. Well, I fear what he would do to my boy."_

_"But not what he might do to Harry? What **else** he might do? Your nephew, your sister's son, means nothing to you?"_

_"...I've spent too long not caring about the boy to really try all that hard now, haven't I? Just get them out of my sight."_

_"Very well."_

She'll just keep smiling, and pretend that Harry never existed.

It's what she'd done when her sister became a freak, after all. It was never too late for regret. But far, far too late for a change of view.

~~~~Back at Hogwarts, approximately three hours, one vomit trip to the bushes, and a young boy crying later~~~~

Harry sighed and rubbed his stiff, sore arm. A nice lady had healed it when they had arrived, fussing over him terribly. He'd found himself very anxious at the attention, and mostly focused on holding Dudley's hand, who regardless of his own tear-stained, red-rimmed eyes, still attempted to comfort him when he noticed His cousin's anxiety. It was sweet, how caring Dudley had become for him over the past few years, but... He wished he could help his cousin, especially now, after being told he didn't belong with his own family, after learning that magic was _real_ and they were both wizards. _'Wizards! Can you believe it?'_

Now, after being fussed over and examined and having a sparking, sparkly stick waved in his face, Harry sat next to a discontentedly snoozing Dudley, eyes closed too tight and nose wrinkled. He curled his fists tightly, looking rather uncomfortable on the otherwise cozy-looking couch seated in the large, mystical office. They were near the large fireplace, a bright, warm light seeped through his dark skin and into his bones like he hadn't felt in his whole life, and around them were books and floating knick-knacks and a big bird perch, currently empty of birds but filled with dark, fine ash. Harry was not at all reluctant to admit that he felt he was dreaming right now, still asleep and still with a broken arm. Magic? Real? It was something he'd have to get used to, perhaps.

Though, the thing that took the cake was the old man in pajamas, and the dirty-mouthed woman with white hair. Mostly the old man, who was currently staring at him and Dudley with a warm smile on his face, though his eyes were tight and, dare the young boy say it- despairing. Harry huffed, perturbed.

"Why are you staring? It's rude." He stated matter-of-factually, green eyes narrowed, lips pursed and newly fixed arms crossed. He shifted almost protectively in front of his cousin. The white haired lady- Eugina?- Snorted into her hand and tried to cover it up as a cough. The old man looked at her with a pout, but quickly turned his attention back to Harry with a disarming grin.

"Care for a Sherbet Lemon?" He asked, to which Harry's jaw dropped ever so slightly. Eugina cackled, much to the old man's dismay. "Maybe not, then.."

"Ab-so-lute-ly not, Mr. Pajamas sir." Said the young boy with a hint of sass he would never dare show to his relatives, not now not ever. Eugina wheezed, still contributing nothing but enjoying herself greatly.

"P-Pajamas sir? I like him, yes oh Merlin, teach him a few better insults and he's golden, goodness." Said the heavily humored woman, eyes crinkling with mirth. Harry did not laugh, or return the pleasantry.

Harry stood, careful not to jostle his sleeping cousin, and frowned. He was tired too, so any righteous indignation would be less effective and more humorous. "Who are you? What is this place? You said you'd take us somewhere safe, somewhere more accepting. But I don't know your name, I don't understand your clothes, I only heard the lady's name in passing, and nothing has been properly explained to either of us! I don't trust this- not one bit!"

Regulus stared at the boy, expression blank, while Dumbledore tried to back-track and save face- the daft fool, acting before thinking.. He was a brilliant man of course, but he was quite the bloody wanker too. Sometimes he thought too hard, other times he didn't think enough. Maybe if he hadn't gone and been a fool all of Voldemort's childhood none of this would have-

No, no he couldn't think that way, it'd only get to his head. Dumbledore was a good man at heart, with strong magic and good intentions. He just... needed a kick in the ass sometimes.

And that wasn't his job! No no- that job fell to Minerva. And oh, when she found out about the state that **The** _Harry James Potter_ was found in? She'd be livid. And rightly so- The woman had, after all, warned the blubbering idiot. 

Regulus grinned cheekily when an eleven-year-old Harry, still looming over his larger cousin like a mother goose protects her young, looked absolutely frazzled and disturbed at one of the Headmaster's awful attempts at humor. He does know how to catch one off guard for certain.


End file.
